The Rose and the Thorns
by Poison'd
Summary: Slight Riff x Cain. It is quoted that 'every rose has its thorn' and Riff cannot help but come to the same conclusion as those familiar, graceful, golden-green eyes smile at him. Yes, the rose needs its thorn, just as the thorn needs its rose.


This is my first Godchild story. Yippee! And I have hopes as to have kept the characters in character. I decided to try a drabble piece first, but it went from drabble to closer to one shot— it's a done shot. Tee hee.

Anyways, please leave me comments. I need to know if Riff and Cain are in character and what might be making them out of character.

So, before I go, I do not own Kaori Yuki's Godchild. However, I do own my own mind and thus I have little tributes to my favorite artist/mangaka out there!

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The Rose and the Thorns

Riff squeezed the pink soap into his hands and let the rose perfume fill his lungs. Making quick work of lathering the liquid with a consistency of syrup into white, foamy bubbles, Riff let his fingers trail over the smooth, ivory shoulders and down the chest of his young master. The happiness in Cain's golden-green eyes as he swirled the white wisps of soap around into nothingness in the tub served to make Riff happy as he slaved over his master's body.

As he begun to lather the next drop of rose-scented soap, Cain bent over and immersed his jaw then his mouth, and finally his head into the water. Riff smiled, taking joy out of the little bubbles Cain's breath made on the water. He stared at the floating black hair on the water and his gaze slowly trailed down to the young teen's bare back.

It felt like just yesterday that Riff had come to be in the Hargreaves' servitude. He couldn't help but sadly recall some of those wounds that littered Cain's back that served only as a thorn does to the delicate nature of an animal's under paw. His hand gently traced out a few of them and he watched Cain to see if there was any reaction. There was none; Cain was far too busy with popping his head in and out of his little, underwater kingdom.

Riff hated the idea that those wounds pricked his master. It almost made him feel as if he wasn't doing his job. But what could he do to erase something as permanent as a scar? He bit his lower lip in solemn thought, but couldn't find an answer to his question. He wanted to physically make them disappear, but, as a former medical student, he knew all too well how improbable that was. It provided him some comfort that Lord Cain found some sanctity in Riff's mere presence.

Golden-green eyes were staring at him. Riff made the motion of a small smile and Cain grinned back before leaning forward to stare at the flowers in the corner of his bathroom. He didn't know it, or maybe he didn't realize it, but the fact remained: there was still innocence in those eyes. It made Riff's heart warm immensely. He had vowed to protect that gleam in those eyes when he had first seen Cain behind that bush. And although years would come and go, Riff knew that he just had to keep that sparkle in his eyes. It was all that little boy had left.

Sometimes Cain hid it. Riff always could tell when he was doing it too. However, Cain always had that gleam in his poisonous, green eyes whenever he looked at Riff. Perhaps Riff was indeed trapped to his master's side for eternity, but that only made him smile. He could live with that, but he could NOT live without it.

After that fire… Riff could hardly bear to think about it. He lost everything that day— including his will to live. The water slid down Riff's right hand and ran over his wrist. He cusped his wrist to stop the water from continuing its path and then he gently unwrapped his fingers. Yes, Lord Cain had saved him.

Cain slid under the water to wash the suds off his back and Riff watched the thorns reemerge from under the soap. Riff put his right hand over his left chest and smiled softly, happily. The fire had given him two scars of his own and one of them was a rose.

Green eyes were staring at him from over white shoulders again. Riff looked him in the eyes and smiled. The line goes: 'for every rose, there is a thorn'. Riff had found his thorn, the staple that kept him tied to life. Perhaps Cain had found beauty in his life from the rose that had blossomed over Riff's chest. The green eyes lit up and Cain smiled again. He turned around and pointed towards the vase of flowers across the room.

"Riff, can you get me my rose?"

Riff smiled, "Yes, milord."


End file.
